The Kruger Chronicles
by kismet00
Summary: Some observations of Earth, as seen through the eyes of Natsuki Kruger. -The story companion to Mai Otome Remix-
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is a companion to Mai Otome Remix. Please read both for maximum enjoyment!

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Arrival**

It is a funny thing, dying.

The act was so simple and abrupt and entirely pointless. It didn't hurt. At least, it didn't hurt for me.

But even if it didn't hurt—even if people knew that it didn't hurt—we would fear death, all the same. It is the one thing we can't escape from, the only thing we can't convince ourselves we have power over. It is so terrifying and dark and black because all living things must die. We fear it because death is the end of existence, or if you choose to believe it, the beginning of another.

And so we tie it up in brightly colored bows and create stories and myths and rituals—if only to ease our trembling hearts.

When people try to imagine death they dream of Angels from heaven or of some midnight specter come to collect their souls. They picture that last breath of a dying soldier accompanied by thundering hoofbeats in the wind, or of brilliant white light and harps. But, really—the act of dying—all it boils down to is a fleeting image of emerald embers in the wind.

One moment I am awake and the next I am dead. It is as simple as that. I was alive, and then—just a moment, an instant, a beat later—and my body was blown to the four corners of Earl.

How did I die? I don't know. I probably will never know. An errant bullet? A bubble of air to the heart? Spontaneous combustion? The more I think about it the less it makes sense. How does one die while hitchhiking?

Regardless of the method, I died without purpose. I died without meaning. I saved no one and instead left a million unfinished things behind.

Some hero I am.

But still…

I wonder if Shizuru will miss me. I wonder if Nao will reach the capital in time. I wonder if Garderobe will be regained and Windbloom restored. I wonder if I really made a difference.

I wonder why I am still wondering.

I wonder how they will remember me.

But that doesn't really matter now.

I am who I am.

I am the number two column.

I am the Gakuenchou of Garderobe.

I am Natsuki Kruger.

I am dead.

And…

I am here, wherever here is, steeped in the darkness—

Alone.

* * *

_if I die before I wake_

* * *

I am trapped.

The darkness is complete; the silence absolute.

I have no limbs to speak of, no lips to move, no eyes to see. My body is nowhere, but I am somewhere, stuck in this limbo. Am I just a disembodied thought-process? Or an echo of something that can't quite shut up? Am I not me, not what I think I am, a fake afterimage? Am I the last futile sparks of neurons misfiring in the brain?

I can't tell. There is no one to correct me.

Even though I have no longer have skin I find that I am cold. This place is cold. I'm residing in this void. Stuck. I don't belong here. I don't deserve to be here.

Or at least I think so.

I am left alone with these thoughts, my worries, and my insecurities—and the only thing that keeps me going are the last brilliant shards of my dreams. Dreams that I may never return to.

I think I am lonely.

It is natural isn't it?

I continue like this for a time, thinking in the darkness because it is the only thing I can do, until I hear something in this dead, silent, place.

It starts softly, as if I am just tricking myself into hearing, but then it continues repeatedly, unmistakably. The sound—it is the peculiar crunching of animal footfalls against fresh snow—footfalls that come closer in steady and slow strides. The footfalls radiate assuredness and it is coming unquestionably towards _me_.

Is this a hallucination? A dream within a dream? The reaper to collect my soul?

I don't know.

How much time has passed in this darkness? A heartbeat? An hour? A year? An eternity?

I can't tell.

But the stimulus is welcome. Even though I have no ears, I listen as it approaches. Even though I have no eyes, I watch as it pads into view.

And after a time the footfalls stop. It looks at me.

I stare at it.

And, oh, how I cannot help but stare.

It—no _he_ is a magnificent wolf, the likes of which I have never seen before. I have no sense of proportions in this place, but I can tell with certainty that he is large. He stands there with a coat of iridescent silver-grey fur that shifts and changes in color as readily as a plume of smoke unfurls in the air. His golden eyes are piercing, glowing in a decidedly unearthly way, and I am drawn to them.

He shifts slightly, as he appraises me, the minutest of his movements radiating power and deadly grace. A cloud of frosty breath swirls downward lazily, as he pants in laughter.

This is not a normal wolf, but this is also not a normal place.

"Silly girl." The wolf speaks without speaking. Such a thing is a paradox, but all the same I feel his words reverberating deeply into my soul. It is a deep noise, a deep feeling, solid and stable as the earth itself.

I should be afraid, but I'm not. The wolf is somehow familiar, its tone comforting.

I am not afraid.

"You are not dead." The wolf focuses his golden eyes at me. "Not yet."

"Then, I need to go back."

"You cannot. Choices were made. _Pills_ were swallowed." The wolf huffs in annoyance, "The matter is entirely out of your hands."

"That isn't fair!" I stress the next words. "Why _me_?"

"Life is never fair." The wolf answers, "It is just a matter of balance. There cannot be two, where there should be only one."

"But I don't understand!"

"You don't have to."

And then he snaps his jaw open as he howls a haunting melody— his sharp ivory teeth gleaming in the darkness—

* * *

_what big teeth you have_

* * *

—And I wake up somewhere else.

At first the intensity of the sun is too much for my eyes. My eyelids close instinctively, and I reopen them little by little, letting myself become accustomed to the light. As I do so, I listen to the sounds of the world.

There is a high pitched whine of engines tearing near and then far, followed by the sensation of air cutting by. And underneath all of the noise and vibrations, there is the steady roar of water against rock.

A street? A highway then? And the ocean?

It is a feast of sensation after the darkness. Everything feels fresh and exciting and slightly exaggerated. It is a little like being reborn.

My eyes are finally open, and I find myself in a strange, unfamiliar, place. This is not the Aries border, nor is it anyplace I have ever traveled to before. To my back is a cliff-face and beyond that is the ocean, a dizzying distance below. In front of me is a common asphalt road.

I wonder where I am.

Some of the vehicles, all of curious make, are slowing or stopping, their occupants gawking.

Some are whistling at me.

I wonder what they're looking at.

An errant gust of wind provides the answer for me. I feel a curious breeze below—goosebumps forming where there should be none. A thought makes me pause with dread, and then I look, my memories coming back to me in vivid clarity. The heat is already rushing to my face as I try to remedy the mistake.

I had arrived with my pants down.

* * *

_Next Time: The Girl Named Shizuru_

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**Author's Note:** Yes, this whole chapter was a build-up so I could write the last line. I just couldn't help myself. Also, if you hadn't noticed by now, I usually respond to reviews in the story review section, since I usually like reading author responses to other people's questions.

Comments, Questions, and Criticisms are always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The Girl Named Shizuru**

My face is burning. I can feel it. The heat has risen up to my face and it won't go away until I calm down and try to forget that it ever happened. This feeling, it is embarrassment, the unwanted rush of emotion that leaves the mind blank and paralyzed in a shocked swirling stupor. I haven't felt this way since I was in school and that simple fact makes me all the more embarrassed that I am embarrassed. I am so consumed by these awkward feelings that I almost miss the word—

"Natsuki?"

I freeze.

It is bad enough that this happened, but it is even worse to be caught by her.

I look up and there she is with her piercing crimson eyes, drawing me in as they look over me with intense curiosity. How long has it been since I have seen those eyes? Those very eyes I fell for?

_Shizuru._

I am relieved to see her. I am happy to see her. I am… I am not sure what I am feeling.

I am out of words.

"Hitchhiking, again?"

Her voice is light with amusement, but something is off. Her tone. Her voice. The slight dips and the highs. The way she lets the words fall off the tongue. All of it is similar, almost the same, but not quite right. It is as if I secretly found her identical twin trying to do an impression of Shizuru. Nobody else would notice, but—

It just doesn't feel right.

"Shizuru?" The word trembles slightly with my increasing doubt.

She frowns at that tone.

I look more closely this time. There is a white headband on her forehead. An injury? And the clothes are all wrong. Where is her Meister dress?

"Natsuki, what's wrong?"

No. No, that's not all. This isn't right. She isn't her. The more I look, the more I realize I'm just trying to fool myself. She can't be Shziuru. She's too _young_.

"Who are you?"

The words come out more forcefully than I intended.

Shi—no this woman—this girl—takes a step back, as if she were physically struck. She's speechless. I can see it in her stare, the cogs whirling and spinning to try and comprehend my words. Really, underneath the thin veneer of calm poise, she's vulnerable, fragile—as delicate as glass. I can read past her mask. She's insecure and unsure of herself. When was the last time Shizuru was like that?

"Ikezu." She smiles at me, "Natsuki should stop joking like that."

But I'm not and she knows it.

"Who are you?" I repeat.

"Even, going all the way to dress up and pretend to not know me. That's too cruel. Natsuki, you can't still be angry about what happened earlier, right?"

"Who are you?" I say again.

"Natsuki, this isn't funny." Her voice lowers.

"It isn't." I agree.

The girl's fake smile melts away, gone and vanished with the costal breeze. She reaches forward to try and grasp my face with her hand, but I stop her midway, with my hand held tight around her wrist.

My face is hard; the embarrassment forgotten, my relief turned into something more of a cross between confusion and gnawing worry. I must look angry. Shizuru always said I frowned too much.

"I'm not joking." I repeat. "Where am I? And who are you?"

* * *

_a flower by any other name_

* * *

Awkward pauses. Time seems to stop for moments like these.

She just stares at me with those intense red eyes of her, the confusion and dismay plainly evident despite her outward calm. I am still holding her arm. We're like little frozen statues—pieces of living art—glued firmly to the ground, just deeply gazing at one another—our small little world disturbed only by the cars rushing past on the road.

We stand. We stare intently. The cars pass and the waves crash behind us.

Those eyes, a crimson red, so familiar and yet, why am I reminded of a serpent in that gaze of hers?

_Because it is dangerous._

And though the realization reaches me, I stare back all the same. I will not be cowed. I never back down. Not anymore.

We wait, the pause long and heavy and awkward—until, finally, she opens her mouth and says:

"My name is Shizuru. Fujino Shizuru."

Her voice is cold, like an arctic chill in the midst of summer. She obviously doesn't like this situation, but it was not of my choosing either. I didn't choose to be here, in this place, wherever this place is.

I let go of her arm and she lets it fall limply to her side.

"I am Natsuki Kruger." I respond to her silent question. "And this place isn't Aries, is it?"

"Aries?" This Shizuru repeats, letting the word roll off the tongue like a foreign piece of candy.

She doesn't know what it is. She doesn't know the name of one of the most influential countries on Earl. She doesn't know—this Shizuru who isn't Shizuru.

A fake.

An imposter.

Not my Shizuru.

"You're not Natsuki." It is not a question.

"The same as how you're not Shizuru." I reply.

We stare at each other again, a million unspoken questions flashing past in our minds. We stare and we scrutinize and we almost fall into another one of those awkward pauses.

"It is hardly apt, discussing these matters by the side of the road in her special spot."

She walks toward what must be her vehicle, and opens the door. She gestures to me.

"Get in."

The words are frigid and abrupt, but who am I to argue, stranded along this long costal road?

Hitchhiking is a dangerous activity.

After all, just look at what happened last time.

* * *

_Crash. The world is Crashing._

* * *

We drove in silence, riding along the cliff and seaside, winding through its twists and turns until we approached some sort of city with square, unimpressive, buildings. The drive itself was quite beautiful. I would enjoy riding my bike on a road like this. I probably would have enjoyed the ride more if I wasn't so distracted thinking about this place and what this girl was not.

Eventually, we pull into a housing complex, parking in a spot that I thought too small to fit. The whole place is composed of more drab poor rectangular excuses of a building, lined up and stacked neatly on top of one another. Wherever I am, the architecture is vastly different from anyplace that I have visited. Everything here seems like a maze, tiny and narrow and confined, like these people have no concept of the need for open space.

She unbuckles her seatbelt. This is our destination. We have arrived.

I look over at her. She's still silent and brooding, but I make no move to break the silence. Shizuru was always more talkative than I was. We exit the car and I follow her up a flight of stairs. She stops at a particular door and I wait for her to open it.

But.

She's knocking on the door.

Knocking. Knocking. Knocking.

Each rapt against the door is a little louder and a little more hurried than the last.

I think this is where she lives. This other Natsuki.

"Natsuki?" This Shizuru calls out, "Natsuki, are you there?"

Her voice too is becoming more concerned.

"_Natsuki_? Will you open the door?"

There isn't a reply.

I don't think she's there, but this Shizuru continues to knock.

It is obvious by now that I look much like this other Natsuki, just like how she looks like my Shizuru. I am not her Natsuki and she is not my Shizuru, and so she has brought me back to this Natsuki's home. For confirmation, for validation, to just make sure that everything was alright.

I suppose it is natural to bring back the evil twin, the doppelganger, the impossibility and make sure that your special person is still there. At least that is what I would do too, or perhaps I would just let Yohko examine and speculate about the theories. Well, if Yohko was around to do such things.

"Natsuki?"

Her voice is raw and unfiltered. No poise, no calm, no grace. Right now, she is fragile, like glass.

This isn't Shizuru. It isn't her.

"Natsuki? Don't be angry. Open the door."

And then she tries knocking again for good measure.

I am tired of hearing it, of hearing those words, and so I reach forward and try what she has neglected to do.

I turn the knob, and it gives way to my touch.

The door is unlocked.

With a slight push the door swings wide open, revealing papers and clothes scattered about the floor—trash and clutter for every square-inch of space I look at. It appears to be well lived in but his still doesn't help the fact that—

No one is home.

She looks to me, crimson eyes flaring, as if I am to blame for the mess and the empty nature of the apartment. I just stare back at her, staring because she is not quite Shizuru and fact that she couldn't possibly be mine.

Silence.

We glare at one another, sharing one of those long and awkward pauses, frozen and unsure of what to do next.

* * *

_Next Time: Tea and Mayonnaise_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Spring weather makes me sleepy.

Comments and Questions and criticisms are always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Tea and Mayonnaise**

"Why are you doing this?"

The words ring sharp and clear in my ears--fury dripping from every syllable—so hot and angry and vulnerable that I half-expected them to burn a hole down to the center of the Earth.

I shrug. "I'm not doing anything."

"Then, why isn't she here?" She demands.

"I don't know." I reply coolly.

She looks at me harder, as if she can scare the answer out of me.

"I don't," I repeat, firm.

"Natsuki…" She hesitates.

I can see it as she tries to take it in and bottle it up: the emotion, the rage, all and everything that must normally never slip out. She takes a breath and then two, as her face deadens once more. A passing observer might think she was simply bored.

But somehow her words still come out clipped.

"Why are you here?"

"That's a good question Fujino." I laughed a giddy little laugh. "Why _am_ I here, Fujino?" My voice echoing her tone.

She begins to part her lips, as if to answer me, but pauses halfway.

"I don't know." I say truthfully, wondering for a moment whether she was in on this sorry cosmic joke. "I was on my way to Aries, but then it got dark and cold. I thought I died. Hell, I might be dead right now, but the wolf said some nonsense about pills and balance. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"Natsuki?" She looks at me in confusion.

She wasn't going to answer the punch line, was she?

"Forget I mentioned it."

Her eyes nervously flick towards the empty apartment for a split second, before decidedly fixing themselves back onto me.

"Natsuki?" Her voice softens.

I sigh, rubbing my temples in the vain hope that I would be whisked back home. "Call me Kruger. It's awkward to be so familiar on a first meeting isn't it?"

"Natsuki," She says my name so familiarly, so gently, like a faint whisper on the wind, "What happened? What—" She pauses. "What did—Who did—Just tell me and I'll…"

Her voice bothered me. It wasn't the fact that she sounded like Shizuru—like Shizuru would have all those years ago—no, it was that damn faint undertone of instability. Words laced with the essence of desperation. The Ex who just couldn't let go. The stalker in the bushes. Dangerous.

I pressed a finger against her lips, stopping her mistaken train of thoughts, stopping her from coming closer. "You have mistaken me for someone else. I told you, didn't I? That I'm Natsuki Kruger."

She frowns and I back away half-bowed in apology.

"I'm sorry. I should go. This isn't my place."

"Natsuki?"

"It's Kruger." I answer, correcting her. "And I should be leaving, Fujino."

"No."

"I don't belong here." I say tiredly, "But, thanks for the ride anyway."

Fujino stood there shocked, out of words. I can't help but smirk at that. My Shizuru would have said four different witty and perverted things by now to stop me. No, I was right. It wasn't her. It couldn't possibly be her. I didn't belong here.

Dream, or delirium or death, I just didn't belong here.

"Goodbye Fujino," I turn and give her a half wave, before adding, "I'm sure she'll turn up."

"No."

I gave her another wave in response.

"No, you shouldn't go." Her voice lowers dangerously. "You _can't_ go."

My gut lurched at the sound, my instincts screaming at me to turn around again, to not show my back to a predator. By the guiding star, there _was_ something off about this girl. It was stupid. I _did_ want to turn around, and activate my robe, and perhaps put another 20 feet of air between us, but I can't be afraid of a little girl now, can I?

"I'm going, Fujino."

"Wait." Her hand reaches out, tightly gripping my shoulder to stop me.

"Fujino, you should take your hand off of me." I say in warning.

"Wait," The grip on my shoulder waivers.

I tentatively take a step away from her.

"_Wait_!" She repeats. "… Kruger…" My family name sounds awkward in her mouth, as if she's fumbling to stop herself from saying something else. "Kruger, you should stay."

"Please."

And this time, I find something raw in that voice, something tiny and fragile—something that I just can't help but feel protective of.

Oh, _hell. _

"Fine." I mutter, raising my arm in defeat.

"I will stay." I say with a sly smile, "But only, if you make some tea."

* * *

_Tea, Earl Grey_

* * *

"Tea?" She asks me suspiciously.

"Yes. Tea." I repeat.

She looks at me as if she finally realized that she's standing next to a Sasquatch.

"Kruger." The word comes out slowly. "Natsuki doesn't usually drink tea, but I have a stash stored away."

She pauses. I look at back questioningly as the pause lingers for far too long.

Is she testing me? As if I would know where the tea is! And that look on her face—maybe she's still hoping that I'll just turn around and say that this was all a joke?

_You silly girl._

"Well?" I ask her.

"I'll start a pot." Fujino states, observing me from the corner of her eye as I examine at the apartment. "Please, do make yourself at home."

I nod, stepping around the discarded clothes and books on the floor. There is a table in the center of the room and a couch in the corner. I would call the space minimalistic if not for the fact that the every foot of floor space was overtaken by some sort of foreign object.

There was also no bed. Where exactly did this girl sleep?

And what exactly was Duran Duran?

Checking on Fujino's progress, I examine the counter. It looks to be made of granite. There are swirls of white streaking the black surface. It is pretty, but why would someone choose a porous stone for a counter?

There is so much detail in this place and so little of it logical.

Fujino notices me hovering behind her. "If you're hungry you should check the fridge." She points at the looming steel box behind her.

It turns out there isn't much in the fridge except for juice and a bowl covered in wrap.

Interested, I pick up the bowl and take a whiff.

"What's wrong?" Fujino asks me.

I must have made a face.

"Fujino, did you know that the mayonnaise is bad?"

_

* * *

_

_Next Time: School_

_

* * *

_

**AN**: Too short for most I suppose. Inanity to ensue in a chapter or two.


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